DEEP AND MEANINGFUL
BATS Theatre, The Dome, 1 Kent Tce, Wellington
23/10/2021 - 23/10/2021
BATS Theatre, The Dome, 1 Kent Tce, Wellington
17/03/2020 - 18/03/2020
Toi Ngākau Productions
Who knew the world would go out not with a bang
but with a big ooff.
You are invited to one last house party before the Earth is eaten by a black hole. DEEP and MEANINGFUL, written and performed by Alayne Dick, is an absurdist poetry/comedy show that explores depression and modern fears about our limited time left on Earth.
Alayne Dick is an emerging talent in the Wellington theatre, poetry and comedy scenes. She has helped create and also performed in three sold-out shows for the NZ Fringe Festival (Summer Camps (2019), Discharge is Rotten to the Core (2018) and Alayne’s Cat Safari (2017). Her poems have been featured in Australian Journal Cordite Poetry Review, Sport, have been performed live on RNZ and she has also been featured as part of VERB Festival’s LitCrawl and CubaDupa. Alayne has also recently starred in her first feature film, Spring Interlude, which premiered in 2019 as part of the New Zealand International Film Festival.
Our director Jennifer O’Sullivan is a creative producer, director, and performer in Wellington NZ. She holds an MFA (Creative Practice) and has worked in Fringe and other festivals since 2007. She is the Artistic Director of the New Zealand Improv Festival and an all-round rad babe. Full production history available at jenniferosullivan.com
Toi Ngākau Productions aims to bring thought-provoking, relevant and feminist content to stage and screen.In 2019 they brought to the stage new works of Waste Not Want Not: Bethany’s Guide to the Thrift Life that toured around a range of NZ Fringes and Running Late to BATS Theatre. They also recently filmed their debut short film, The Girls.
BATS Theatre, The Heyday Dome
17 – 18 March 2020
Full Price $20
Group 6+ $17
Concession Price $15
Addict Cardholder $14
*Access to The Heyday Dome is via stairs, so please contact the BATS Box Office at least 24 hours in advance if you have accessibility requirements so that appropriate arrangements can be made. Read more about accessibility at BATS.
TAHI Festival 2021
BATS Theatre, The Dome
23 October 2021
The Difference $40
Full Price $22
Group 6+ $18
Concession Price $15
See more this TAHI FESTIVAL with a TAHI TASTER Season Pass!
Get THREE TICKETS for any three TAHI shows:
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TAHI FESTIVAL 2021
A celebration of solo performance, TAHI is a five-day Festival at BATS Theatre dedicated to showcasing the finest and most engaging solo theatre from all around Aotearoa.
Set Design: Jen O'Sullivan
Live Music & Sound Design: Aaron Pyke
Theatre , Performance Poetry ,
Toasting the holes that make us whole
Review by Ines Maria Almeida 18th Mar 2020
My boyfriend and I, we enter BATS Dome and REM’s ‘It’s the End of the World’ is playing. It’s just so topical what with coronavirus infecting the world, our anxieties, and conversations these days. Seated, we’re handed a piece of paper where we’re supposed to write what we would miss the most if the world were to end right now. Holding the hand of the man that I love, I want to write ‘Everything about the person next to me’, but that feels a little too vulnerable and sappy so I write ‘BEER’ instead. In my defence, he writes ‘Kranskys’ and I know that because he asks me how to write the plural of ‘Kransky’ – just add an ‘s’.
If you’re prone to believing the end of the world is indeed nigh, you don’t want to miss Alayne Dick’s absurdist poetry/comedy show that explores depression and modern fears about her, your, and my limited time left on Earth. Or maybe you do. It depends on how anxious you’re feeling about it all.
From missing awkward introductions, comfort foods, and of course the people she loves, Dick takes us through an hour of fatalism, making us share her sentiment that yes, everything worth loving is absolutely, terrifyingly fragile. Helping her on this quest is her pal Black Hole, a super massive one, which you can interpret as her depression, or the impending end of everything, or both. And there are cupcakes.
This is interactive theatre again, and if you’ve read anything else I’ve written, you know I’m not a huge fan, but she’s so earnest and endearing that this time it works for me. That, and I’m sitting far enough away so I don’t have to engage. It’s deep and meaningful content, but there are lols that add some levity to the doom and gloom in the room. My partner isn’t loving it, I think because he errs on the more optimistic side of life. A fatalist at heart, this is my death year (don’t ask) and I’m loving this idea of thinking about what I’ll miss when I die because that’s on my mind a lot.
I love that Dick isn’t going to bother with small talk now that the world is ending. There’s no time for that BS, people! Shouldn’t we all be living like it’s our last year? Shouldn’t we put less time into cultivating our dying plants instead of our dying relationships? Maybe we could be more like octopuses with their three hearts, and all that heartbreak. Dick’s monologue helps put life into perspective: bring on the apocalypse and its wild priorities, bring on the heartbreak.
There’s a good amount of humour to temper the melancholy. I’m feeling melancholy but she lifts me when she insists that we all take out our phones and text a lovely message to the person we have a crush on (oh but I’m busy taking notes!). Oliver sends his message to me, which sets my heart aflutter (or is this a heart attack?), reminding me that even if the world is ending, or there are times when things are so dark inside that it feels that way, at least I’m not alone in it.
Tears spring to my eyes when Dick explains she’s spent so much of her life recapping her life. This trying to fit everything in, this trying to be as productive as possible, what will it all mean in the end? Our obsessions with social media, pedometers and other things that serve to dull our lives, should all be sucked up into that Black Hole (not the one inside us, but the one actually out there in the universe, please). There are other flooring, heart-guts-eating moments where she implores the audience to shine flashlights if we wished we’d missed more projects, kissed more girls, drank more beer, and can I add, eaten one or two more Kranskys.
Sure, time is pulling us all towards our eventual death, and yes, some of us will die faster (or slower) than others, but what are we going to do about it, punks? We can let the vacuum of our sadness and anxiety destroy us (and those we love), or we can raise a glass and make a toast to the black holes that lurk inside us, who hurt us, who scare us, but who ultimately make us whole. I’ll drink to that, whether it’s the end of the world or not.
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